Starlee's Turn (The Wayward Sons 2)

“It’s no big,” she says, waving it off. “If anyone has a problem, it’s her. You know she’s freaking out, right?”

“No. Why?”

“Because it’s senior year and although there’s been a big build-up to this weekend, we’ve also matured—for the most part. There are only a few people that take this seriously now. Chris is one of them. It means more to her than anything else. She wants to win. She wants the hottest guy at school by her side. She thinks it means something—but really, to the rest of the school it’s not a big deal.”

These are the social dynamics I don’t pick up on because of being homeschooled for so long. It makes sense, I guess, but I feel like an outsider looking in.

The marching band kicks off and the pep rally begins. The cheerleaders tumble and twirl their way in before setting up a large banner on the stage. The school fight song reaches the final verse and there’s a crash as the boys tear through the banner, entering the gymnasium. It’s loud, exciting, and I find myself reaching for Charlie’s hand to stay grounded. His other hand is occupied with a game on his phone.

Big surprise.

The bass of the drums reverberates through my chest and it only takes a second to find Jake and George among the players. George is still dressing out, although he’s out for the season due to his concussion. I feel a silly sense of pride watching them in the middle of the gym floor.

We sit through a cheer routine, a rousing speech from the coach, and then Margaret, the Student Ambassador, walks across the stage and takes the microphone from the coach.

“Who’s ready to hear our representatives for homecoming court?”

The crowd cheers in response. The three people I’m sitting with look less than enthused, although Claire has a smirk on her face.

Margaret goes through the lower classes first, naming two girls from each grade. The freshmen look the most excited, bouncing up to their feet. The enthusiasm wanes with each grade until we get to the seniors. I can’t help but look for Christina at the center of the cheerleaders, waiting patiently for her name to be called.

“As you know, there are four girls and four boys from the senior class,” Margaret announces, “and tomorrow we’ll crown one of each as homecoming king and queen during halftime at the game.”

She opens an envelope and reads off the list.

“Our homecoming king nominees are: Jake Hollingsworth,” the gym cheers and Jake smiles, performing a cheesy bow as he take his spot on the stage. He’s so handsome, there’s no question why he was chosen. Margaret laughs under her breath at the next name and searches the gym. “Dexter Falco!”

The gym reacts in surprise but mostly cheers. Dexter stiffens and glances at me. Charlie stops playing his game and a wide smile crosses his lips. “Oh my god. Perfect.”

“Dexter! Are you here?”

Charlie pushes him up. “Go man. Get that crown.”

Dexter reluctantly stands, looking as overwhelmed as I felt a few minutes ago. He makes his way to the stage, boots loud on the wooden floor. Jake shakes his hand. He may think he’s not homecoming king material, but he’s every bit as hot as Jake.

“I’m noticing a bit of a trend this year,” Margaret says. She looks completely pleased when she announces the next name. “Let’s just get this one over in a one-two punch… George and Charlie Evans!”

Charlie stops moving, fingers clenching mine.

“Uh, what?”

He’s completely confused. George, on the other hand…

“Oh. My. God,” he shouts, running out of the group of football players and across the gym. He stops in front of us and drags his still-baffled brother off the bleachers. He gives me a smile and a wink before the two of them head up to the stage.

The Wayward Sons just swept the homecoming court.

“Was that supposed to happen?” I ask Claire among the cheers and laughter. The whole school loves George, probably more so since his injury.

Her lips turn up in a conspiratorial smirk. “This is what I was saying. They’re the hottest guys in school. That’s the beauty of things like senior court. All the façade is gone. We’re graduating soon. People can finally pick the ones they want on the court—not just the popular kids.”

None of this makes sense to me, but I’m not up on high school social dynamics. I agree, though, that they’re the hottest boys. Hands down.

The four of them stand on the stage in various states of emotion. Confusion, glee, disturbance, and hesitant acceptance. Margaret, not worried about any of this, speaks into the microphone again. “Now for the ladies!”

“Monica Brown!” the audience cheers for a girl on the dance team. Her shiny costume sparkles all the way to the stage.

“Christina Abrams!” The cheerleaders surround her, shaking sliver and blue pom-poms in her face. She smiles like she’s already queen and makes her